Quisling's Clabberation: Milking The Castigation Of Shizuka
by Quillon42
Summary: With whom did my Kouma captain have a duel and lose? For what reason did he fight and sacrifice his afternoon's worth of goat's milk? Even Shizuka will know for sure, *really* know inside and out, once the ninja leader is so fully through with her. Warning: There are no occurrences of congenital transactions in this story; rather, just good old cream-curdling vengeance.


(NB1: As far as I know, there is no name for the crimson-haired ninja who leads the Kouma and whom Shizuka encounters in Season One, Episode Two of Queen's Blade; I named him "Furuitsuin" because that supposedly translates to "Older Twin" in Japanese, and somewhere this guy was called Older Twin, so there. Another point real fast is that I kvetch about gender relations a bit here, as stuff is very one sided in this universe (and yes, I understand that it's gone the other way in a trillion other stories in the past, but two wrongs)).

(NB2: By the way, the description I have out in the lobby for this story was inspired by the introductory sequence of Ninja Gaiden 1 for NES and such; just as I felt so bad for the one who ever lethally lost that duel as well, here in spirit, in a sense, am I avenging him in turn sort of (well, not really, but kind of). Hope everyone enjoys this at any rate as it is).

QUISLING'S CLABBERATION: MILKING THE CASTIGATION OF SHIKUZA

By Quillon42

How depressing it was that Furuitsuin had lost today's supply of raspberry milk after that duel the evening previous.

It lay there now, splashed all over the ground, the gourd that he wore on his back slashed upon the grass to accompany. That Desdemona of a deserter had recklessly ruptured it with her weapon, making matters appear as if she had drawn blood upon her opponent. Consistent with the WWE-PG-Rating bloodlessness of most of the rest of this series, though, it was not in fact a bodily fluid but rather berry flavor that issued forth.

Sighing heavily, the new Kouma leader picked himself up off the dewy green of the Hinomoto wood and hustled on off to find the harlot responsible. In this reality, at least, the ninja Shizuka and her Lady Tomoe had loitered a bit longer in their homeland, so the beryl brigand could still catch up and carry the former off and exact his own variety of vengeance.

Just as Shizuka was readying herself to haul off with her elegant ally on their gallivant toward Gynos, the lurid lady of lavender locks stepped out of her screened-off chamber in Tomoe's temple to become encased in the embrace of a kusarigama chain once again.

"You break it," the interloping amaranth assassin said to the shimmery thistle-tressed she-devil as he took a firm stance aside her titanium-entwined form, "you bought it."

This statement punctuated by the thrusting of a torn leather canteen at the feet of the faint-fuchsia-follicled femme.

"So you're going to pay for wasting my nondairy substitute."

Furuitsuin tightened the binding chain ever further, causing the kooky kunoichi to cry out, but her lady would not reach her in time despite the latter's furious sprint toward the call of her friend.

One flicker-flash of patented ninja teleport-transport later and Shizuka was once more shunted against the trunk of a tree, only so many meters from the temple. As soon as she could open her eyes again, she was showered with a salutation of the sweetest, stickiest of solutions.

Her face now blooming brilliantly from elderberry and embarrassment, the comely would-be murderess found a beat later that she could not manipulate a single muscle upon her shapely frame.

"That was another kind of cream alternative you just consumed.

"I'm full of all the different types, but believe me, Shizuka, I am no soy boy."

She started to part her thin lips to clap the hell back like an overly-"best-by"-date-expired Chrissy Teigen, but this was immediately met with another freshet to the face, a mulberry variety now flooding the modest-mauve madamoiselle's lovely mug.

Once she could blink past at least some of the fruity film that framed her face, Shizuka took note of the dozen human drones standing about her hampered figure…as well as the score of gruff billygoats gathering aggressively all around her. Each hide sported a different, almost pastel sort of hue.

"Your money's no good with us, my most deadly arch-foe…-Shizzle," Furuitsuin started anew, "so I'm afraid you're going to have to work off the debt, which you owe to us all for betraying the Kouma…"

Then closer to the pasteurized pate of the ninja princess: "…and which you owe to me personally for wrecking my breakfast."

The deputy leader of the deadly legion then stepped away nimbly, spreading his hands wide as he proceeded with his haughty harangue. "My assistant assassins will enable your hands to be free…and for the cattle to come to you most conveniently.

"The flavors of boysen, black, and goose are the ones you need to start with, you treasonous-ass quisling. You just _know_ how much in demand goat's milk is to the masses these days; everyone loves it and needs it from the angels above, to the collective of nameless and sometimes even faceless men below, they so far beneath alleged demigoddesses like yourself in this one-sided world. After these varieties here then, don't worry—there will be hundreds more herds to handle in the months to come."

Finishing with the slippery Shizuka, the masterful maroon-maned man petted the head of the goat aside the lavender lady. "You can pretend that Yagiyayoi here, for one, is your lovely Lady Tomo-Gay while you're working. Toodle-Oo, Traitor!"

And with that he teleported away, leaving the thulian-thatched thugess to her enemy-administrated toil. It would not be until Shizuka hushed out entire oceans of udder-utterance that she would be released, she incidentally occasioning much mucky clabber of so many colors and varieties all over the forest floor as she so worked against her will without any recourse whatsoever. Indeed, the lady would not be let go until, unlike the epidermis of Furuitsuin the evening previous, the girl's own pores in fact secreted blood, sweat, and many flavors of the milk itself, this last liquid on a regular daily dairy basis.

Across the bright yet battle-foreboding countryside, a most naive and erogenous aristocrat had been priming herself once more for another practice battle. It was incumbent upon Elina Vance to master all moves necessary regarding the art of her treasured trouncing spear. This would be the only way she would be able to so catch up with and match her beloved sister Leina.

Even now, while she was ever heartily twirling and thrusting with her potent polearm, Elina could not efface the afterimage of her sister as it so lingered before her in the courtyard.

"I can't wait to see Leina again so that I can try once more to talk her into complete and utter uninhibited fornication with me!" (Honestly this is basically the essence of everything else Elina says and suggests when she speaks of her sister; one can agree it may as well be this overt).

Her sternum's constituents had almost hurdled their haltery constraints, however, once she caught sight of the svelte stealth in the distance, a comer in coiffed carmine whom she would discover in short time to be a Lothario of lactose intolerance in fact.

And so it would come to pass that Furuitsuin would serve as the most conspicuous Kouma on the continent, he first conquering Claudette and Elina alike with his magnificent masculine wiles…then on to the After-Amara that was Menace's lair, in which she would become a slave to his punishing passions…then to the Netherworld Swamps, where the man would make Airi shed threads but absorb so much kissing essence that she would almost explode…then to the secluded Elven forests, as he would ever pollinate Alleyne into growing a full apple tree for underwear (and she would earn her own first perfect score in serving as seducee, as far as the sensuality-stifled siren was so concerned)…then to the oily arenas where even a sap-saturated Echidna could not guard against his enticing advances as he expanded his ever-burgeoning empire of desire. Indeed, like a Ludakris of centuries past, this ninja would have so many handmaidens of the blade in so many country codes, all of the females fiending for his so surreptitious saunter into their battle-blunted lonely lives time and again.


End file.
